A Brutal Revenge
by Mika-Mustang
Summary: After being abandoned by his friends to a soulless Angel, Xander enlists his Uncle Kramer to help him get his revenge. Sorta Crossover but not really .
1. Chapter 1

Bruised and battered, a blood soaked Alexander Harris stumbled up the quite streets of Sunnydale, the barest rays of morning sun creeping up over the horizon. The young Scooby left a trail of red footprints as a marker behind him along with small saltwater spots. The boy had been through hell and back. Xander tripped over an uneven sidewalk crack and fell face first onto the grey pavement. Pushing himself up, the ruined boy 's face never changed. The once perpetually cheerful boy had a face marred by a long crimson line from temple to chin. His brown eyes showed none of the pain his wounds would suggest, but instead were hard and cold, despite the steady stream of tears that oozed like falls from his eyes.

Continuing his crimson trail, our ruined Zeppo pressed foreword. By the time he reached his destination morning had come in full, house wives jogging, birds chirping, and the beasts of the night put to rest. Slipping into the ruined bunker/warehouse that had been his goal, Xander immediately curled up on a pile of rags laid out next too the door. Shuddering he stared blankly at the wall, appearing to all the world as if no thoughts but pain raced through his head.

In truth, the thoughts running through his head were of pain, simply not his own. No, the thoughts were of what he would do too those that had left him to the beast that had crafted him into the stoic creature he now was.

Buffy.

Willow.

Oz.

Giles…

All of them would pay.

But first he would be patient. He could afford it, after all he needed time to prepare. He needed time to make a call to his uncle.

_This is John Kramer speaking, leave a message at the tone…_

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><p><em><em>Short little opening =3


	2. Chapter 2

Hey! I was so not expecting so much love! I know its short but here's the next little bit! Remember though, I own nothing NOTHING and this is all just for kicks and evil giggles!~

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><p>Bubbly and blonde, Buffy Summers skipped into the library, home of her Watcher and her bestest friend and said friends bestest boy-toy. Grinning happily she bounced her way into the large room looking for the three she wanted. Stopping quickly and shifting into a subtle battle stance she frowned and looked harder when she was unable to find them. The small slayer stalked foreword and searched. A slight rustling sounded and she wiped around just in time to see...<p>

Nothing.

Laughing to herself at her paranoia Buffy turned around, right into a crowbar.  
>Shaking his head at the ease with which he had been able to capture his 'friends', Xander took a moment to survey the mausoleum of books that he had once spent so much time in. Little had changed in the four months of his absence, and any evidence of his own capture was long since erased. Carefully dragging the blonde slayer out the side door and into his waiting truck, he hefted her into the back with the rest. Pulling out a rag and a small bottle of chloroform, Xander swiftly worked to ensure that none of them would be waking up just yet.<br>Whistling a soft tune to himself Xander drove to his little hidey-hole content with his bounty. It was gonna be a good day.****  
><strong>**

Whimpering a distraught Willow Rosenberg wrenched herself violently, desperately, and futilely, trying to get free. Sobbing brokenly the young witch once again tried to breath a spell to free herself, and was once again not even able to get through the latin without a broken gasp of pain breaking the chant. Struggling to collect her thoughts, Willow tried to breath, fighting to ignore the squeals penetrating the air around her. Suddenly the old tv with a VHS slot turned on, and Willow turned her head to the grainy image of a swirly cheeked puppet. Eyes wide she watched.

Hello Willow. I want to play a game. You cultivate your powers and your ego, losing sight of the 'little' people. Now it is your turn to be the little one. You are surrounded by starving rats. They will eat anything that comes within reach. The squeals are the sounds of them eating one another. They are only held at bay by the small circle of fire surrounding you. The clues to your escape are written on the walls, but I would hurry, the fire is dying, and soon, you will be too. Live or die. Make your choice. And the tv died.

Sobbing, Willow frantically looked around walls walls walls. Written in what she hoped wasn't blood, directly behind the tv was written; The key to your release is the key to your death. Feeling that she was allowed to, the teenage witch let forth a stream of curses profoundly fowl.

Struggling to think clearly, Willow thought back to what the gravely voiced puppet had said, desperate for any clue. Straining at the ropes thought bound her she had a wild thought. Rocking her top heavy chair back and forth she squeezed her eyes shut and send up a quick prayer to the goddess. Then she tipped her chair back into the fire, and the rats.

Straining her neck forward as far away from the rats as she could, she held her breath and wiggled, trying to her the ropes in the path of the flame. She screamed as the flames licked her neck, face and shoulders, turning the pearly skin first red, then black with burns. The rats having seen an opportunity, scrambled and clawed their way the Willow's beautiful long red hair, and climbed it, tiny jaws snapping, to get to the tasty cooked flesh that was now her cheek.

Finally, finally, the ropes snapped and the victorious girl leaped to her feet, screaming at and shaking away blood thirsty rats as well as patting out the embers in her hair. The wooden chair was quickly becoming kindling, and Willow looked frantically around, looking for a way out, and desperately trying to will away the fact that the flames were diminishing despite the chair giving it kindling. She held back her sobs and took a step back away from the burning chair. And immediately slipped in a puddle of oil and fell back into the ring of flames, her fire red hair blossoming with fire. Screaming as rats bravely launched themselves at her face and started gnawing at her nose, cheeks, eyelids, lips, she struggled to stand but the weight of tens of feasting rats that were swiftly covering her held her down.

She thrashed and screamed and tore at the rats that were ripping her fuchsia sweater apart to get to her skin but there was alway another rat ready to burrow into where its brother had been and tear at her flesh. The feeling of tens of little beasts tearing and biting and chewing was indescribable in its agony, and the feeling of her scalp turning black as her hair burned its way into ash certainly did nothing to help. As her cries turned into whimper and then into gurgles as rats attacked her flapping mouth to eat her and to climb down her, in the next room over, watching from the many cameras trained on her sat Alexander. Grinning at the scene that had unfolded with just as much grace as he had hoped he rubbed his hands together in glee. For you see, Willow was only the first. And with the help of his fellow murderer Uncle John he had big plans. Next on his list, Buffy Anne Summers.

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><p>It was hard to kill Willow! I like her! Heh heh but I won't lie and say it wasn't fin :)<p> 


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